


Symphonie

by n_nami



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Kid!Fic, M/M, daddy!Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7029241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destiny is like a symphony: melodies intertwining, harmonious then distorting, building up and crashing down, sometimes quiet, sometimes overpowering with intensity, only to finish in a beautiful climax. In hindsight, that pretty much captures Jensen's and Misha's whole life from kindergarten through school, college, and adulthood. In hindsight, it all makes sense. But in hindsight, you always know better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symphonie

**Author's Note:**

> The title is obviously the German word for 'symphony', I just wanted it to sound fancy.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy my farewell gift to the Supernatural fandom! :)

[](http://imgur.com/tGKDgUC)

There are tons of stories about destiny, about soulmates waiting for each other, about the tragedy of life itself. There are tales so elaborate and intertwined, so heartbreaking and comforting, that one could read and tell them over and over again without ever tiring from it. The most heartbreaking tales are those that life itself creates – of friends meeting and losing touch, of lovers falling for each other and divorcing each other, of strangers who cross paths multiple times without ever knowing that the other exists.

But sometimes, it's simple.

Sometimes, stories don't start with a stranger coming into town, or with a man – or woman – going on a journey.

Because Leo Tolstoy might be right about a lot, but this time, he isn't.

This story starts in a daycare, in a room with fifteen rambunctious children, some fighting over dolls while others are coloring in a corner, some falling all over themselves on the climbing rack while others are getting scolded by a teacher. The smell of play-doh and crayons will never quite leave this room, even long after the children have returned to their families. The chaos of Legos strewn across the floor with a half-eaten crayon shoved into the underside of a bigger one will also never quite cease.

***

It's the year 1982, and 4-year-old Jensen Ackles is about to build the highest tower of wooden toy blocks  _ever._

He just needs to add one more red triangular block and the tower will be perfect.

That is, if there wasn't a very eager and very lively Misha Collins crashing into it.

“Hey!” Jensen cries out.

“Sorry!” Misha mumbles and immediately starts to rebuild the tower together with Jensen, who can't stay mad at him.

Their mothers, ready to dissolve the situation and pick them up, are watching speechlessly from the sidelines.

“This one yours?” Rebecca Collins asks, a lopsided smile on her face.

“The one your son just decided to be best friends with forever?” Donna Ackles smiles back. “Yes.”

A sentence, meant as a joke.

Donna Ackles didn't know just how right she was.

But this is where this story begins.

In a daycare, 1982, in Dallas, Texas.

***  
  
“Come on, Mishaaa,” Jensen whines from the kitchen door. “I wanna play baseball!”

“But you're so much better at it than me,” Misha starts to protest, and Donna, weary of the two, perks up from throwing together a stew.

She's halfway to taking in a quick breath and scolding the boys to not fight, when Jensen shakes his head. “But you're like, really awesome at pitching, so!”

Misha blushes, then gives in with a nod and follows Jensen out of the house.

“Take care, boys! Dinner is at six!” Donna calls after them.

“Yes, Ma!” Jensen hollers back, followed by a shy, “Okay, Mrs. Ackles,” from Misha.

Donna looks after them as they pass by the kitchen window on their way out of the garden. Misha looks eager, easily swayed by Jensen's enthusiasm. He's still a chubby child, so some sports will do him good.

Jensen once told her that even though they were only in second grade, some of the other children were teasing Misha for his weight. And that her boy always stood up for his best friend, which she's proud of.

Donna hums to A-ha's latest song on the radio, 'Take on me', and finds herself hoping that Misha will always have a friend who takes on anything coming his way together with him. And if she thinks of Jensen, strong-willed and charismatic even though he just scraped past his 7 th birthday, she's pretty sure that the two of them will have nothing to worry about.

For now.

***  
  
Alan comes in from the garden with a loud sigh one day.

“What is it, honey?” Donna asks him, right when he closes the door to the heat of summer and the noise of the boys rolling around in the grass with Josh.

“He wants a _tree house,”_ Alan rolls his eyes.

Donna smiles. “Good thing his birthday isn't for another nine months.”

“There’s that, yes, but it's _Misha's_ birthday in three weeks.”

Donna cleans her hands on a kitchen towel, worrying her lip as she considers her son's request. “Well. Since Misha is spending a lot of his time after school here and Rebecca surely wouldn't mind – plus, I'll be home for the foreseeable future, and it'd be nice to have a place where I can stow the kids for a while if they're noisy--” she runs her hand over her pregnant belly, lost in thought.

“Are you really saying...” Alan trails off, a look of disbelief on his face.

“I am,” Donna grins. “Why not? A Saturday off with your brother and perhaps some help from the boys – you know, make them work for it – and it's done.”

“Fine,” Alan gives in, shaking his head.

***  
  
The treehouse endeavor, or, as Donna called it – the day the Ackles boys actually worked together and left her in peace for an entire day – was a long one.

But in the end, there was a treehouse in the sturdy Acorn tree out back, high up enough for a corded ladder, not high enough to cause any serious bone fractures. At least Donna hoped so. The treehouse also came with rules. Rule 1 was, obviously, that Donna and Alan were not to enter it under any circumstances. Josh needed permission. Rule 2 was Alan's demand, as he set the no-jumping-off-or-climbing-around-the-tree-rule, which the boys were surprisingly fine with.

The rest of the summer of 1987 was quiet and very enjoyable for the Ackles household.

Donna didn't want to know what the boys even did in their treehouse.

Some things were better not to know.

***  
  
“Did you know?” Jensen starts as he sits down on the ragged old cushion in the middle of their secret base. Meaning the tree house, but, seriously, secret base is so much cooler.

“What?” Misha prompts.

“When I joined the drama club, they said I might have to kiss girls on stage. Like. Ew!” Jensen scrunches his nose and rolls his eyes.

Misha shrugs with a grin. “Well you wanted to try acting, and since our new school has a club... but who knows, maybe you don't need to.”

“Nah, what if they make me? Mr. Jackson said I could get a role in one of the next plays,” Jensen grumbles.

“That means you're good, right?” Misha nudges his knee.

“I guess,” Jensen bites his lip. “Which means I'll have to be good if I have to kiss a girl too or else I won't get the role. Right?”

Misha shrugs. “Dunno.”

Suddenly, Jensen face lights up. “Oh! I got an idea!”

Misha waits. That's always the best tactic to follow when it comes to Jensen's ideas.

“Practice with me!”

“What, kissing?”

“Yeah!”

“But it's gross!”

Jensen ponders about that. “My mom and dad do it all the time, though.”

“ _Gross,”_ Misha shakes his head.

“I'd rather practice with you than with some girl, though. Imagine that. Icky.”

“Still, isn't it kind of gay?”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Not if it's for practice.”

Misha hums, then shrugs. “If you really want to, I guess...”

“Nah, it can't be that weird, right?” Jensen chuckles, then scoots over to where Misha sits against the wall. “My dad always does this with my ma,” he adds to explain, then cards his right hand into Misha's mop of dark hair – a little long, these days, it's about time his mom cut it like she does for Jensen, since the strands are reaching Misha's chin by now – and pulls him against his lips with his hand wrapped around the back of Misha's head.

It's just slimy and weird, Jensen finds himself thinking.

They break apart after a second, and Jensen wipes saliva off his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was strange.”

Misha nods with emphasis. “I have no idea why adults do that. Ew.”

Jensen touches his lips with his thumb, and they feel a little more full, more plushy than usual. Maybe Misha's spit has some kind of magic power. “It's nothing special. I think I can do it for drama class.”

“Glad I could help,” Misha mumbles, then grins mischievously. “But you owe me one now!”

***  
  
Bumps in the road are a concept that teenagers only start to pick up on.

As far as bumps go, Misha hits his first when Jensen asks Suzy Meinfeldt out in 8 th grade.

Just because he's the captain of the football cheering squad and she's their main cheerleader.

Later, Misha would say that it was as expected as it was clichéd, but back then, all he felt was a vague sense of dread as Jensen blushed while telling him all about his lunch date with Suzy. Jensen tells him everything on any other day, so that being a given, he also tells Misha about making out with Suzy behind the bleachers, of all places.

Misha rolls his eyes when Jensen isn’t looking.

That's all he can pin down. How uncomfortable he feels when Jensen talks about her. And every time he knows that Jensen won't have time to hang out with him because he's on a date with her.

And then there's the fact that only once Jensen says, “She wants to have sex, but I don't think I want to,” and “I think I'm gonna break up with her, she's pushy,” Misha can breathe freely again.

***  
  
When prom rolls around, Misha doesn't want to go.

The only friend he's had all throughout high school is Jensen – their classmates either bullied him when Jensen wasn't there or thought he was too weird for doing Appalachian Clogging, as a favor to his one other and only female friend, Vicki.

And Vicki is not going to prom either.

But Jensen wants to, and as one of the popular jocks and head of the cheerleading squad, he's kind of expected to.

“I have no idea who I should ask,” he admits one day, while they're lazing around in the – a bit leaky, but still standing – tree house.

Misha shrugs. “Suzy Meinfeldt?”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “You're never gonna let me live down that one, will you?”

“Nope.”

Jensen chuckles. “Asshole.”

“Love ya too, cupcake,” Misha answers and blows him a kiss.

“I'll just ask you, how about that,” Jensen suggests, not even sounding entirely like he's joking, which he must be, Misha figures.

He snorts. “Yeah, right. Like I said, I won't go.”

Suddenly, Jensen gets very serious. “I don't want to go either, Misha. Not generally, not even because I wouldn't want to say goodbye to my friends here and all, but seriously. I can't... I don't want to guilt-trip you or anything, just being honest, bear with me... If you're not there, it's gonna be boring and shitty and I can't look forward to it. So please, would you at least consider it?”

Misha looks up from the Spiderman comic he's reading and raises an eyebrow at Jensen. “Fine,” he gives in after pondering for a few moments. Moments that are filled with big, begging green eyes. “I'll consider it.”

Jensen pumps his fist in the air.

In the end, he asks Marilyn Smith, and Misha convinces Vicki to go for his sake.

Only Vicki – spontaneous and adventurous and flighty as she is – goes on a roadtrip with her older sister the day before prom. And Marilyn gets ill and her mom won't let her go, which Jensen only learns when he goes to pick her up.

In the end, it's just the two of them, and while they're still all dressed up, they let Jensen's mom take a couple pictures of them in their tuxes and go together.

Screw school rules and everything. If they're both left hanging, they'll make the best of it.

In the end, it does get enjoyable, especially when Misha pulls Jensen onto the dance floor, so that they get their prom dance after all. They step on each other's toes and awkwardly shift from foot to foot rather than actually dance, but they giggle through the whole thing and get called 'fags' by Corey Nichols when they leave.

They just laugh at him and Misha throws his arm around Jensen's shoulders as they walk home.

In the end, it's all worth it.

***  
  
Vicki returns soon after and both her and Misha move away to go to college in Chicago, where they've got a full ride.

Jensen stays in plain old Dallas, Texas and starts his education as a physical therapist. He likes the job, helping people, and it's solid enough work that his parents don't get a heart attack when he tells them what he wants to do.

Misha writes a postcard every so often; sometimes, a lengthy letter arrives, telling Jensen about college shenanigans and scavenger hunts and drunken nights in the dorms. He has to laugh at each and every one of them, simply for the fact that Misha can blow up a story of three sentences into a page of prose with biting sarcasm, and still manages to voice his thoughts so on point that it's sometimes scary.

One day, when Jensen is drafting his answer, a thought hits him right at the end.

It would be weird, if it wasn't Misha. But since it is Misha, Jensen adds the thought to the letter.

'I miss you.'

Five days later, there's another postcard in the Ackles' mailbox. It says, 'Do whatever you have to, but convince your parents to let you come visit me over spring break.'

Jensen does.

Mow the lawn and wash the car for the rest of the year, that is.

And it's only January.

***  
  
Campus life in Chicago is not exactly what Jensen expected.

He knew that Misha was living in a house off campus, but he didn't know about Misha's crazy roommates or the sheer amount of booze they had around.

Spring break turns out to be nine days of trying to hold your liquor while continuously trying to chug down more. The occasional blunt is handed around, but Jensen doesn't try it.

Never in his life had he imagined Misha to be a grabby drunk, but Misha turns into an octopus when inebriated. He constantly hangs off Jensen's shoulder, or grabs his hand to drag him to the keg, or just sleeps on his lap when he's hit his first hangover at 11 a.m.

The experience itself is probably worth it, Jensen figures, but it's a handful.

On Thursday, he's barely able to look at beer any more, even less willing to drink it. He stares at his red cup disdainfully when a hand appears in his field of vision and takes it from him.

“Wha--” Jensen looks up, surprised.

“Jaaay,” Misha moans, then slumps down and forward and Jensen barely has enough reaction time to catch him. One of Misha's knees lands on the couch beside Jensen, and from then it's only a few more muscles giving out until Misha is sitting across Jensen's lap, his arms wrapped around Jensen's neck.

Jensen swallows heavily.

Not only had Misha gotten big, but there's some sinewy muscles flexing under his arms. He did mention that he picked up running, but Jensen hadn't expected it to show like this. Misha is all lanky limbs and taut muscles and small hips and--

Jensen stops his thoughts, then his hands, which are already resting on the small of Misha's back.

“Jay, I'm sick,” Misha whines. He smells of beer and whatever they smoked earlier.

“Drink less. Or smoke less, whatever,” Jensen flicks his ear to tease him.

Misha grumbles and lets his head fall onto Jensen's shoulder. “If I don't smoke when I drink, I'll just get horny, and god knows how that'd end.”

Jensen chuckles nervously. At least he can safely tell that Misha isn't popping a boner right now because they're  _that_ close.

Maybe he does need a beer. Or thirteen.

“You feel good,” Misha drawls, drowsy and clearly out of it as he rubs his cheek against Jensen's neck. “Smell good, too.”

“I haven't showered in two days,” Jensen deadpans.

“Exactly. You smell like you. Like home and Texas and August afternoons in the tree house. I missed you.”

Okay, so there's two more things Jensen hadn't expected.

Misha getting sentimental when drunk.

And that having Misha in his lap, rubbing against him, touching him from head to toe, would make him so incredibly nervous.

He shoves the thought aside and Misha off his lap.

“I missed you too, but dude... sleep it off, will ya,” he tries to sound harsh, but it comes out shaky.

“Only if you sleep with me,” Misha sing-songs, then pulls him down by his neck, until they're both lying flat on the couch, Jensen on top of Misha.

_Oh, what the hell,_ Jensen thinks.

This is more comfortable than he thought and he kind of hasn’t slept these past three nights, anyway.

Within minutes, he's out.

The last thing he remembers is Misha's hand on the back of his head, his fingers toying with the short hair there.

***  
  
They're on the phone with each other as soon as Jensen returns home.

“Dude, you won't believe what happened,” Misha laughs, right after greeting him. “A girl asked me if that was my boyfriend, who visited over spring break. It took us some discussing, but she meant you, can you believe that?”

Jensen chuckles.

“I mean, how does she even get to that conclusion?”

Jensen opens his mouth, but words fail him. He has no idea where even to begin.

“I didn't kiss you or anything, right? I don't remember too much from the past week, but I do remember that. Like, 80 % sure. Okay, maybe 75 % sure.”

Realization hits Jensen hard . Still, Misha deserves some teasing. “Oh, you did.”

“I did?!” Misha almost screeches. “What, when? Did somebody record it?”

“You did, and no, because it was when we were twelve and hanging out in the tree house,” Jensen laughs.

Misha still sounds panicked. “But I didn't kiss you, right? As in, last week.”

Jensen is hiccupping from laughing over Misha's embarrassed fit. “No, you didn't.”

“Good,” Misha lets out a deep exhale. “Because if I did, I'd like to remember it.”

Again, Jensen is speechless. His heart skips a beat as he's staring at the kitchen floor.

“Ah, anyway. So this girl thought you were my boyfriend, but when I told her you weren't, she asked me out. So, thanks for scoring me a date! Like, indirectly, you know,” Misha's wink is audible in his voice and it irks Jensen, for some reason.

“Cool. Have fun,” he answers, short and to the point.

For whatever reason, his stomach clenches. Probably from all the alcohol of the past few days.

***  
  
Misha's dating period lasted exactly three dates before Nicole decided she wasn't interested. Misha wasn't too heartbroken about it, and Jensen felt inexplicably better.

That was their first year in college. And then, Jensen met Amy.  
  
Amy is, for a lack of better wording, perfect. The nice girl from next door, who Jensen knew from high school since she was a grade under him, and she's nice and intelligent and really, she makes Misha's blood boil.

Even though he can't help but like her regardless.

Amy makes Jensen happy, that's the important part. She grounds him and compliments his character traits and she's got this disarming smile.

Misha bites his tongue every time Jensen goes 'Amy this, Amy that,' on the phone. He gets it.

He can already see Jensen and Amy in a nice house in the suburbs, white picket fence and a dog included, children playing in the back yard. It just fits.

And while Jensen's life slowly but surely finds ground to build on, Misha's has just gotten a hell of a lot more confusing.

They say you try a lot in college. He kind of blames Vicki for riling him up, too, for daring him to kiss Dave, his openly gay housemate. She couldn't have known that he would like it, of course, but now Misha has all these confusing feelings spinning in his head, and he can't possibly ask anyone for help.

He needs to figure it out himself.

Dave tries to help, since he's actually a nice guy. They even sleep together once, but that only confuses Misha more, because it's good and enjoyable and  _damn,_ men really are something.

And then he hears Jensen on the phone and the thoughts inevitably hit him.

What if Jensen--

He'd never consider it.

But the image is quite nice.

Misha scolds himself for thinking about his best friend like that. Jensen has Amy.

And Misha is apparently very, very bisexual. He can work with that.

***  
  
“There's something I need to talk to you about,” Jensen sighs into the phone.

“Oh, besides the fact that you aced your exams?” Misha teases, nibbling on toast. His stomach is still upset from the party last night.

Unaware of that, Jensen sighs again. His tone is dreamy when he says, “Yeah. Amy wants to go steady, you know.”

Misha swallows. The bite of toast, that is. “Is that so.”

“I want to propose to her.”

“Cool, congratulations,” Misha intones, honestly happy for Jensen. “How are you gonna do it?”

“No idea,” Jensen whines. “That's why I was calling you in the first place.”

“Like I have any experience with that,” Misha chuckles. _Like I'm not fucking around with a guy who I couldn't legally marry even if I wanted to,_ he thinks to himself.

Jensen huffs, amused and a bit nervous. “You're a romantic at heart and you and I both know it. So.”

Misha sighs. “Christmas? New Year's? Your anniversary?”

“Our anniversary is in two months, that's a pretty good idea,” Jensen muses. “I could take her out to dinner and a movie or something.”

“Just please don't do that clichéd thing with the ring in the champagne glass. Or fall on one knee while singing her a love song in the mall.”

Jensen chuckles. “Yeah, right. No, I won't.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

***  
  
“One thing you want to do before you get married,” Misha prompts on the day they pick Jensen up for his bachelor party. It's just them and a few colleagues and neighbors, friends of Jensen's, but since Misha is the best man, it's his party to organize.

“That's obvious,” Jensen grins.

“Well, my friend, we come prepared,” Misha says and hands him a blindfold. “Put this on, we're gonna go somewhere.”

It's an evening filled with shenanigans, lots of laughter, and even more alcohol. Jensen gets a stripper and a lapdance while everybody hollers at him. They end up at Burger King at 4 a.m. and Jensen – for lack of a better word –  _annihilates_ his Whopper like only David Hasselhoff once would.

When they're back home, having lost their company on the way as Jensen's friends bid them goodnight one after another, it's just him and Misha again.

Amy is at her own bachelorette party with her friends, and staying over at one of their places.

Jensen heaves a big sigh when he toes off his shoes. “Man, I'm wasted,” he chuckles.

“Let's get you into bed,” Misha laughs, although he doesn't feel that steady on his feet, either.

He does, in fact, get Jensen into bed, but he's surprised when Jensen pats the mattress beside him. “Sleep here. It doesn't matter anyway.”

Misha shrugs. They've shared a bed so often that it's nothing special any more.

When they're both settled, Jensen turns to him, slurring, “You know, there's one more thing I want to do before I get married,” and before Misha can react, Jensen's hand is around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

It's too wet and tastes like alcohol, and it's barely more than a quick peck on the lips. Nothing to write home about.

And yet, Misha feels a shiver run down his spine, a pleasant tingle.

“You should really go to sleep now,” Misha reminds Jensen playfully and tries hard to ignore the blissful smile on his face.

Whatever, they're drunk.

Shit happens.  
  
***

At Jensen's wedding day, Misha stands beside the altar, hands him Amy's ring and smiles. Smiles, smiles, smiles.

Everybody asks if he doesn't have a girlfriend to dance with after the dance floor is opened by Amy and Jensen, and he shakes his head.

Richard is a lot of things, but he's neither a woman nor a boyfriend. They've got a thing going, but it's not even that much of a thing, so Misha didn’t bother to tell him about where he was going this weekend in September.

He didn't even tell Richard that it was his best friend's wedding, who was getting married to a gorgeous woman, and that they're both only 24 and 23 years old respectively, but already found what they wanted in life.

Seeing Jensen so happy, laughing so much, lifting Amy into the air for a picture, makes Misha incredibly happy. He can't stop smiling.

They both look stunning, Jensen in his tailored tux and Amy in a modern, strapless, long wedding gown in blinding white. Her blonde hair is tucked up in curls, and her veil is smooth tulle.

And when it doesn't seem like Misha will find anyone to dance with, Jensen ends up standing in front of him and grabbing his hand. “For old times' sake,” he laughs. “Just like at prom.”

So Misha dances with Jensen at Jensen's wedding, loses himself in those intense, moss green eyes, and it's not even a big deal.

***  
  
The day that Misha finally confesses to Jensen is a warm evening in August, in the year following Jensen's and Amy's wedding.

Amy is upstairs, the heat hitting her more than usual. Her pregnancy isn't going as smoothly as they all had hoped, but it's still early and she's sick a lot of the time.

It's probably the worst time to tell Jensen, Misha knows, but he needs to get it out there.

“So, did you find a bigger apartment yet?” Jensen asks him, then hands him a beer as he sits down beside Misha on the bench facing the back yard.

“Anything's bigger than that tiny room,” Misha snorts, but smiles. “Actually, yeah. But um... there's something I need to tell you.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow and takes a mouthful from his bottle, waiting.

“I'm moving in with somebody. Somebody I've been seeing for a while,” Misha says.

“And you didn't tell me?” Jensen splutters, acting offended. “Spill the beans, Collins. What's her name? How did you meet her?”

Misha chuckles, but he feels his heart racing where it's stuck in his throat. “When I started my new job here in Dallas, the first day, actually.”

“Great, that's--”

Misha interrupts him, just to get it over quickly. “And  _his_ name is Matthew.”

For a moment, Jensen freezes, his smile dropping from his lips as he processes that piece of information. He stares some more, then shakes his head. “I'm sorry, that just... surprised me. So you're dating a guy?”

“Have been dating him for the past six months,” Misha confirms and can't help but smile. Matt had swept him off his feet from day one, and it's been probably the most harmonious relationship he's had in his 26 years.

“Alright,” Jensen nods, then starts to grin. “You know that he'll have to go through the 'Jensen Ackles approval test for boyfriends'?”

“You mean the 'torture protocol that scared away three of Mack's past boyfriends'?” Misha throws back.

Jensen grins and nods again.

“I'll warn him.”

“No need. Just bring him over next Saturday for poker night.”

He sounds honest and not the least bit bothered, so Misha feels a huge weight drop from his shoulders. “I was planning to. I'm sure you'll like him, he's a great guy.”

“Younger than you?” Jensen prompts.

“A year older, actually. Has been working for the governor for a year and half before I started there, they hired him fresh out of college. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, which is not something you can say about a lot of people working for politicians.”

“Good. I'm looking forward to meeting him.”

***  
  
“Jensen just called me,” Matt almost yells in lieu of a greeting when he storms into Misha's office.

“What?” Misha looks up from his manuscript, then grabs for his phone. “Oh, my phone's dead.”

“Yeah, he just drove Amy to the hospital, the little one is about to hatch!”

“What?!” Misha shouts, then grins.

“Are we going immediately? It's already time to go home, if you squint,” Matt winks.

Misha nods courtly and packs his stuff. “Meet you at the car in five minutes. Which hospital are they at?”

“St. Mary's.”

Misha groans.

“Quite a drive, I know,” Matt sighs. “It'll take some time for the baby to come, too, so we aren't in that much of a hurry.”

“I know, but I'm--” Misha breaks off and instead shows his hands to Matt, which are trembling from excitement in mid-air.

“Me too,” Matt grabs Misha's hands, then pulls him out the door. “Let's go.”

“Hold on, I still need to pack up my stuff,” Misha laughs.

Matt drives them to the hospital, and Misha is about to die from nervousness. He sends Jensen about a million texts from Matt's phone, but he probably doesn't have his cell phone with him anyway, since there's no answer.

It only goes to show how friendly Matt and Jensen have become in the past half year for Jensen to call Matt in the first place. Which is a good thing, Misha can appreciate it. They've become more and more of a little family over the months, and Amy was very thankful for three men taking care of her when she wasn't feeling well. Which was more often lately, but it hadn't been an easy pregnancy all over.

When Misha and Matt arrive at the hospital, Jensen is already sitting in the hallway with a bundle of sheets cradled in his arms, a tiny, red, and still smeared face sticking out of it.

“Say hello to Holly,” he grins with tears in his eyes.

***  
  
It happens when Holly is about a year old.

Misha gets a text from Jensen, and all it says is, 'Please go out drinking with me tonight, or I'll go crazy. Just you and me.'

Misha figures it's just the struggles of a young father, but Jensen later confirms otherwise.

At first, he pretends to be fine, but after six beers, give or take, he starts to become sullen and serious.

And then it all comes out in a wave of frustration and anger.

“I don't know what to do,” he admits. “Amy is... she's completely overwhelmed with the situation. I mean, I have no idea what I'm doing either, but I try to do my best and raise Holly as best as I can, but Amy... it seems like she can't emphasize with her, at all, like, she doesn't get why Holly reacts the way she does or why she doesn't listen and for god's sake _the kid is a year old!”_

“Did you talk to her about it?” Misha inquires, frowning.

Jensen huffs. “Talk to her? We're fighting about it each and every day, and afterwards Holly clings to me because mommy is shouting again and she's scared and Amy blames Holly for everything!”

“Oh,” Misha finds himself frozen with shock, even his leg stops twitching on the barstool's foot rest. “Well, do you think this will get better once Holly gets older?”

“I hope so, but dude, I'm seriously worried. What if it doesn't? What if Holly becomes difficult? Like, the Why-phase and the defiant phase are still coming up, and that's way before puberty and...”

“You're questioning her ability as Holly's mother.”

Jensen looks up from his glass of beer, then, to shoot Misha a look that is so scared that it gives Misha goosebumps. “I don't recognize my wife, Misha. I've known her for years, I've seen her with kids. She was amazing. She'd make an amazing mom, I was sure. And now... I have no idea how to tackle this issue. Not a clue. I can't even talk to her about it rationally because she's losing her temper so fast, I'm--”  
  


Misha bites his lip. He doesn't dare prompt Jensen or interrupt him, but he's not looking forward to hearing the end of this sentence.

“I'm afraid she'll hit Holly or something like that. And I wouldn't want that, of course, but I love her, you know, and it's,” he breaks off, blinking fast.

Misha wordlessly turns towards him and pulls him into his arms. It's a good thing they're sitting in the far corner of the bar, away from most of the ruckus, but he still hears Jensen sobbing quietly into his shoulder.

“Whatever you need, whatever you decide to do. I'm here for you. And so is Matt. You know that, right?”

Jensen nods against his shoulder.

Misha feels his heart break for him.

***  
  
Amy does hit Holly when she works herself into a crying fit in a supermarket one day.

Jensen only finds out about it later, when Amy comes crying to him about 'what's wrong with our kid'.

Jensen reins in his anger and tells Amy all the reasons of why her reaction was wrong, and they end up fighting yet again.

“I'm not cut out for motherhood,” Amy laments sometime during that fight.

“Obviously,” Jensen huffs, frustrated beyond anything.

In the end, it's a fight more serious than any other before.

“I don't know if I can keep doing it like this. Maybe I should stay home and care for Holly, and you get back to work,” he offers.

“Maybe,” she gives in. “I'm sorry.”

“We'll try that. And promise me you won't hit her ever again.”

Amy does.

He forgives her, and hugs Holly extra tight that night, and spends some time explaining to her that 'Mommy is stressed' and she needs to be 'extra good' with her. However, he also tells Holly to tell him immediately if mommy hits her again.

Which Holly does.

A month later.

Jensen gives Amy three days, but while she talked about the situation – the neighbor's kid wanting to play with Holly's toy and then not returning it, to which Holly threw a fit in their back yard, then not calming down when Amy told her to – multiple times, she didn't mention the slap once.

Holly is almost three years old, and Jensen decides that enough is enough.

The next day, when Amy is at work, Jensen packs up some of Holly's stuff and moves her to Matt's and Misha's house. Then he clears out his stuff from the wardrobe, Holly's clothes and toys from her room, and leaves a letter for Amy to find when she gets home.

He's done.

***  
  
They find an apartment near the house Matt and Misha rent, and while the divorce is still running and Jensen works part-time, it's hard.

Amy didn't mind the divorce too much – Jensen thinks she's glad to have the responsibility of raising Holly taken off of her – but bureaucracy is a hassle and money is tight.

Jensen wouldn't survive if it wasn't for Misha and Matt supporting him every step of the way, taking care of Holly when he can't, and inviting him to homecooked meals whenever they can.

Jensen's and Amy's house was sold, but that money dried up fast, with the little apartment needing new, smaller furniture than what Jensen had from the house, and legal fees to pay.

In the end, it's all worth it. Despite losing everything.

In the end, Jensen has the one person in his life that's most precious to him, and he knows she's alright.

Holly is asking about her mom, some days, but over time the questions become scarce, few and far between. She blooms, becoming the happy little girl she was supposed to be, and Jensen only realizes how much the situation must have weighed on her, all this time.

There's not enough years in a life-time to apologize for what she had gone through. For what Jensen couldn't protect her from.

He feels guilty, so guilty.

Most days, when Holly is in bed, he ends up sitting on the cheap two-seat sofa, uncapping a bottle of whiskey.

At first, it was just a glass each evening, sometimes two.

Then, the more he realized how much Holly had needed to get out of Amy's influence, and how long he had watched and stalled, it became three.

And then, Jensen ended up sleeping on the couch and waking up with a headache each morning.

“You're drinking at night, aren't you,” Misha notes with a worried frown, nudging the empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table.

Jensen is too tired, and at this point – Saturday morning, Misha scheduled to pick Holly up for a day at the zoo with Matt, and Jensen sleeping through his alarm to wake her and get her ready – too hungover to deny the obvious. “Yeah. Too often.”

Misha sighs. “Tell me. How long has this been going on?”

Jensen sits up and cradles his head in his hands. “A month or so, I guess. Since I started passing out on the couch.”

Misha's eyes, deep blue and so concerned, flick from one of his eyes to the other, and he looks stern when he says, “You know that's not—”

“I know,” Jensen groans. “I feel guilty enough as it is, so spare me the speech.”

“You feel guilty? Because of Holly?”

Jensen nods with closed eyes. “Because I couldn't protect her. Because I couldn't see the signs from the beginning. She's become so incredible, such a lovely child, the way she should've--”

“And it's because of you. You stepped on the breaks when you realized it was necessary.”

“But for all the things she had to witness before that...”

Misha gets onto his knees in front of him and grabs his hands. “Jensen. Listen to me. You're a wonderful father, and you care for--”

Jensen interrupts him. “I'm a single father without a penny to his name, who just hit 30 and lives in a crappy, too small apartment, my child will grow up poor and without her mother, and while that's the better solution in our case, I have no idea how to manage that. I have nothing to provide for my kid. I can't buy her the latest toys, and once she's in school I--”

“Alright, stop it,” Misha interrupts him, this time. “You wanna know what I see? I see someone who gave up everything for his daughter, who loves her so much and puts up a brave face for her so she has nothing to worry about. You're doing the best you can, and it shows. Your daughter needs you and she loves you. The only thing now is that you're her only pillar of support, so you need to be that. She doesn't need a dad who's drinking himself into alcoholism. You can do it without the whiskey, and you'll be amazing at it. I know that.”

Jensen takes a deep lungful of air. Before he can answer anything, they're interrupted by a sleepy voice.

“Daddy? Uncle Misha?” Holly asks from the doorway.

Suddenly, Jensen's throat closes up and he tries hard not to cry, blinking tears from his eyes. “Hey, baby girl,” he mutters, his voice scratchy and rough.

Misha pulls back, and Holly stumbles into Jensen's arms. He lifts her up to sit in his lap, and only lets the first tear roll down his cheek once she's safely nestled in the crook of his neck.

“Why are you sad, daddy?” she asks, sounding troubled. “Did I do something?”

_God._ A million thoughts shoot through Jensen's head at once. This is exactly what Amy's upbringing had caused and he sure as hell wouldn't continue where she had left off. “No, not at all, sweetie,” he answers. “It's just that sometimes, I'm sad too, but believe me, it's never your fault. Grown-ups get sad from time to time. And when you're with me, you make me happy again.”

“Okay,” Holly answers, easy as that. She wiggles out of his embrace and turns to leave, but Jensen tugs at her hand to stop her.

“Don't I get a good morning kiss?” he asks her teasingly.

“Good morning, daddy,” Holly says, then puts a loud, smacking kiss onto his cheek. “Do I get waffles for breakfast?”

“When do we have waffles for breakfast?”

“On Saturdays! And it's Saturday, because Uncle Misha's here!”

“That's right,” Jensen smiles. “Go on ahead to the kitchen, Holly, I'll be right there. Just gotta talk to Uncle Misha.”

“Okay!” she says and runs off.

“Don't run indoors!” Jensen adds a bit louder, and the tiny footsteps become slower.

He turns to Misha, who watched the exchange with a quiet smile, and opens his mouth to say-- well, what exactly?

“Told you,” Misha nods with a wistful smile, then follows Holly towards the kitchen. “Where's my little munchkin and who makes the best waffles in the world?” he asks, not directed towards Jensen.

“Here! And Uncle Misha does!” Holly yells, delighted.

And that's it.

And Jensen ends up sitting on the couch, feeling like he reached revelation.

***  
  
“Matt thinks I'm spending more time with you and Holly than with him,” Misha thinks aloud, one Monday afternoon after he picked up Holly from school.

Jensen had just walked through the door and draped his coat over the coat rack, then slipped off his shoes.

“Is he jealous?” Jensen squints. “And why would he even be?”

“I have no idea,” Misha sighs. “We're best friends, he knows that. You're not interested in men, he knows that too. And he knows you, most of all. But he totally blew up at me this morning, when I told him I'd watch Holly this afternoon.”

“Yeah, um, sorry to ask you again, it's just--”

“I know, since you started working full-time again, it's been difficult. And I've got flexible office hours. So. We have that figured out, don't we?” Misha shoots him a challenging look, seeming entirely too serious.

Jensen shakes his head and tsks at him. “I don't want you to fight with Matt over me.”

“We didn't fight, he just... yeah, we fought. Don't feel bad, though, he's just being prissy.”

“Don't let him hear you say that,” Jensen snorts, half-amused.

“Oh, I told him,” Misha deadpans. “He didn't take it well.”

Jensen bites his lip, then finally sits down on the sofa beside Misha.

That conversation about his qualities as a father happened almost two years ago, but here, in his living room, on this very couch, it still triggers memories.

“Is it really a problem? Because I'll find a way to not make you both unhappy.”

“That shouldn't be your responsibility in the first place,” Misha huffs. “That's our job to figure out.”

“I butt into your lives so much, I feel obligated to give back. Although, fair point, I could go take the easy way out and find a wife who actually likes kids, especially my kid, and then we'll be golden. But that's not in the cards right now.”

“Why?” Misha mumbles, confused.

Jensen lets his head loll to the side to lock eyes with him. “'Cause for the time being, Holly comes first. Always. I don't need anyone for myself who'll make Holly unhappy. She and I are what matter now.”

“You hide your fear of another relationship behind the fact that you want to be a perfect father to your daughter – which is fine – by setting yourself back in the long run,” Misha summarizes, each word chosen carefully.

“Yeah, and I wouldn't if I wasn't fine with it.”

“You're too young to give up on love like that,” Misha rolls his eyes. “You deserve the butterflies and the fluffy clouds and the little hearts flying around your eyes--”

“Shut up, Misha,” Jensen laughs.

Misha blows Jensen a raspberry. “You'll see. Love always finds a way.”

“I think that line was different. And had something to do with dinosaurs.”

“Shut up.”

Jensen laughs.

“And you'll see, if you find someone you really love, something like that won't matter. Also speaking of, Matt and I will be okay, too, so don't worry.”

***  
  
They turn out to not be okay.

Three months and lots of discussions later, Misha leaves.

Matt says he threw Misha out, but that's semantics if you ask Jensen.

Point being, Misha is living in his apartment and driving him insane.

But he doesn't have the heart to tell Misha to stop or calm down.

In the end, it's not necessary, and Misha quickly finds a new place to live. A three-bedroom condo with luxurious carpet floors, for whatever reason.

Ironically, Jensen sees him less than before he and Matt separated, but knowing Misha, it was to be expected. He was very busy going out, breaking hearts and taking names. And numbers. Virginities, too. Probably.

Jensen doesn't want to know.

He just looks worried about his best friend for a while.

***  
  
“What's up with Uncle Misha these days?”

“Nothing sweetie, he's just hit his rebellious phase.”

“... Dad, what does that mean?”

“Ah, nothing.”

“Daaaad.”

“... Okay. So, listen here. Sometimes, two people really, really love each other and so they stay together. But sometimes, one of them meets someone else who they also like. Most people would separate or argue here because they only want to live with one partner, but there are people like Uncle Misha who can love more than one person, and both persons he loves are okay with that.”

“So that's why Julia moved in with him and Rachel?”

“Yes.”

“Can I get two girlfriends, too, when I'm older? Daddy? Daddy please!”

“If you eat your beans.”

“Don't wanna.”

“No girlfriends for you then.”

“But Julia is so pretty!”

“Then you need to eat your beans.”

“... Fine.”

***  
  
That relationship lasted about half a year, and then there were various men and women in Misha's life, coming and going, kiss and goodbye.

Jensen couldn't exactly tell Misha how to live his life, even if he wasn't too happy about it.

Misha is obviously overcompensating for something, trying to fill a hole without knowing how, and hurting himself in the process.

Jensen knows all this, but he can't exactly tell Misha. There are things you have to figure out on your own to see the need to change them. This is clearly the case here.

Misha's a smart cookie, he'll figure it out.

His relationships and his changing partners like Jensen changes his underwear aren't the worst part, even. Where it stops being fun and games is Misha's work. He hops from job to job, does literally everything between waiting tables and writing speeches for politicians and bosses of huge companies. At one point, he started a novel. It didn't get far, but at least he had his business cards already printed.

In the end, it's two years of Misha not exactly knowing what he wants.

Even Holly can tell that Misha is drifting, but she takes it with the most humor of all of them.

“Uncle Misha, what are you working as this week?” she asks him over dinner one day.

At that, Misha starts laughing like he hadn't in a long while. And, with tears of laughter in his eyes, he says, “As a social worker.”

Which, ironically enough, is the one job he settles down with.

“I like helping people. And my girls and boys at the shelter, they're all... they need me.”

“That's great,” Jensen tells him, truly impressed. He always knew Misha had a social streak, bordering on a helper's syndrome, but this is actually a case of 'using superpowers for good'.

Misha still hangs out with Jensen and Holly most days.

***  
  
It's two years later that Misha lets himself into Jensen's apartment, a piece of paper in his hand, and an announcement on his lips. “I'm gonna build a house!”

“You what?!” Jensen shouts from the kitchen, a carrot to peel in his hands, the radio blaring in the background.

“I bought some ground, here in Dallas. And I'm gonna build a house on it!”

“What?” Jensen repeats, wiping his hands on a towel and facing Misha while turning the radio down. “Seriously?”

“You heard right, my friend,” Misha nods. “I'm gonna take a few months off work and do this.”

“All alone?”

“If I have to.”

“Well, I'll help, of course, but why would you--”

Misha stares at his hands. “It's about having created something... worthwhile, you know? Something that's significant. Something for me. Not for anybody, for me. I've been living my life these past years doing things for other people, and look what happened.”

Jensen swallows, feeling strange and a bit hurt, because--

“That excludes you, obviously,” Misha adds with an eye-roll. “You're you. I meant all those men and women I dated. You'll always be special.”

“Aw, thank you,” Jensen lays his hand onto his chest, above his heart and flutters his eyelashes playfully.

“Shut it,” Misha laughs. “So, what do you think. Bungalow or a two-story?”

***  
  
With Misha becoming a full-time carpenter and roofer for a while, Jensen finds himself with a disturbing amount of free time on his hands. It's not like he hasn't any hobbies for himself, or something to do in general – he's got a daughter at 8 years who still needs plenty of his attention.

But that's the thing, Holly misses Misha as much as Jensen does.

And since Misha's new house, half-built as it is, already has a garden for Holly to play in, they end up staying and helping more often than not.

Plank after plank, window after drywall, the house comes together.

A year, lots of bickering and a huge amount of stress later, it's done.

And all Jensen feels when he looks at the two-story home with a wide veranda out back is honest and deep admiration. Just a bit of envy.

After moving Misha in, they throw a little party, just for the three of them. It's pizza and beer – root beer for Holly – in the living room, and since little of the furniture is actually set up, Jensen ends up sleeping in Misha's bed with him, while Holly settles on the couch. Well, she just falls over and sleeps.

“So, what's the plan?” Jensen asks Misha that night, when they've worked up a good buzz, lying in bed and staring at the empty walls. 

“What's what plan?” Misha asks back, head lolling sideways.

“For the house. I don't think you want to live here alone?”

“Nah, not forever. But for now, definitely. I think I'll enjoy being single and free for a bit.”

“Tick-tock,” Jensen teases.

“I'm only 34,” Misha snickers. “Besides, I've already got a foster daughter, right?”

Jensen can't help the smile that pops up on his lips reflexively. “You do, yeah.”

They turn to each other and grin, and because it's dark and because he's buzzed, Jensen wraps his arms around Misha and hugs him. “Thank you for everything.”

“I should be the one saying that, you know,” Misha huffs, but squeezes Jensen back.

They pull apart, and for a moment, Jensen loses himself in the blue of Misha's eyes. Laugh lines are crinkling around his eyes and mouth, and Jensen finds them suddenly very endearing.

“Who would've thought we'd be here one day,” he muses. “From a treehouse to this.”

“Yeah,” Misha grins back. “And you know, when you become sentimental, it's time to go to bed.”

***  
  
“Let's make a pinky swear,” Jensen suggests at Misha's 35  th birthday party, early in the morning, after everyone has already gone to bed. The sun is rising and they're well past being buzzed, drunk and already on their way to sobering up again. It's only a joke, but one that Jensen had been thinking about for a while now. Just a little promise, for comfort.

“What are we, five?” Misha snorts, but leans against Jensen's shoulder nonetheless.

The grass is cool against Jensen's bare feet, and it's quiet, so quiet, at half past five in the morning of August 21 st . The first rays of sunlight aren't too warm yet, far from the midday heat that soon will start to build up, and a light breeze ruffles Jensen's unkempt hair.

“No, we're both 35 – well, I'll be 35 in six months – and single. And--”

“\-- if we don't find someone by the time we hit 40, we'll just get married to each other?” Misha laughs half-heartedly.

“Something like that,” Jensen swallows, because his heart is beating too loud in his chest and his stomach aches. He looks at Misha, who blinks at him innocently. Big, blue eyes. Plush pink lips. Jensen is entirely too sleep-deprived and too half-hungover and too half-drunk to not admit to himself that he finds Misha physically attractive. “I mean, we already got through the past 35 years together, so the other half of our lives shouldn't be a challenge, either.”

Misha chuckles to himself and drops his chin to his chest. “Alright,” he says, and he sounds lost in thought.

“What?” Jensen pries, because Misha is hiding something. “Any objections? Conditions?”

Misha hums, then tilts his head sideways, looking too bashful and cute for a grown man. What even are Jensen's thoughts doing. “Just wondering. Could you really do it? A relationship with a man, even if it's as a back-up plan.”

“Is it so different?” Jensen shrugs. “Plus, it's you.”

“So?” Misha furrows his brow, confused.

“It's you. I've known you for as long as I can remember. Of course I could.”

“The whole nine yards, with kissing and everything?”

Jensen snorts and tries not to sound too smug when he says, “Like I've never kissed you.”

Misha smirks and leans in. “Okay, then. Seal the deal with a kiss?”

“Fine, weirdo,” Jensen teases him with a smile, then meets him halfway and closes his lips over Misha's.

It's different.

A lot of shit has happened between them over the years, but never anything like this. Never anything so deliberate.

Misha's lips are chapped and cool, a bit dry as they slot together with Jensen's. It's far from a first, it's not even anything special, per se, but Jensen's heart stops for a moment. Misha is his best friend,  _his best friend,_ always has been, always will, but--

They pull apart, and Jensen huffs out a nervous laugh, can't bear to look at Misha. “See?”

“Yeah, I see,” Misha answers, and if Jensen's ears aren't deceiving him, he's breathless.

Jensen has a hard time reining in his erratic heartbeat and his labored breathing. He should go to bed, he should forget about all of this, and he should pretend it never happened.

Realization hits him hard, right then, in the early morning of August 21 st , in the middle of Misha's back yard, sitting beside his best friend.

On a whim, Jensen turns around, notes Misha's surprised yelp as he loses his support and almost topples backwards into the grass. That is, if Jensen hadn't already pushed him with both hands on his shoulders and pressed him into the ground with his full body weight.

Misha blinks up at him, eyes wide, lips slack, hair ruffled.

Jensen would never go through with it all the way, not like this, but there's something he needs to try and see.

He braces himself with both hands beside Misha's head, then lowers himself, just slow enough for Misha to figure out what he's up to and protest if he felt inclined to do so. Misha just gapes at him, and something warm and indescribable fills his eyes right before Jensen closes his eyes and just lets it happen.

It's slower, this time, like everything happens in slow-motion, like taking a deep breath before taking a dive into the deep end. Jensen grazes his lips over Misha's, hesitant at first, but when Misha sighs and presses back, he tilts his head and kisses him. Kisses him deep and good and licks into his mouth when that isn't enough. Misha tastes like beer and pizza and it's probably not a bad idea for either of them to brush their teeth, but it couldn't matter less. Jensen kisses Misha until he's breathless and his head feels like it's stuck in the air, floating above reality like a helium-filled balloon, and for a second, he feels like he's watching himself from above.

Kissing his best friend.

Probably the worst and best idea he's ever had.

He feels his body react to Misha's, feels his fingertips tingling where they play with the strands at the back of Misha's head, occasionally intertwining with a few blades of grass. Misha's hand wraps around his neck, pulls him closer, pulls him under, and Jensen loses himself in it.

When they pull apart, Jensen gasps for breath, feels Misha's huffs of air against his sensitive lips, kiss-swollen, moist from spit, and wanting more.

But he's had his confirmation.

“See?” he chuckles when he feels like he somewhat settled back into being himself. “I could do it.”

“Mh,” Misha nods, seeming pretty out of it himself, with his eyes hazy and unfocused, then sits up. “You're a good kisser, gotta give you that,” he adds.

“Thanks,” Jensen grins. “You're not so bad yourself.”

It feels weird, on the surface.

Their relationship has always been close, but never intimate in that way. Not that Jensen regrets it. Never has regretted it.

Doesn't regret it now, but doesn't regret kissing Misha either.

He doesn't regret making sure it'll be alright if they come to make good on their promise.

“So, five more years,” Misha notes, sitting back to lean on his hands.

“And if we're still single, then...”

“Yeah. I mean. I'm fine with being single for now, enjoying life and concentrating on my job is pretty much all I want to do at the moment. A relationship is too much ballast.”

Jensen nods. “Same here. With Holly barely in junior high, I'd like to get her out of the worst until, you know. I don't want to bring anyone into her life that won't stay there.”

Misha nudges his elbow, grins. “So we're good?”

“We're good.”

***  
  
It takes Jensen three years.

Misha can barely believe it, but when Jensen calls him to ask if he could take care of Holly for the evening so he can go on a date, he starts to laugh.

“Took you some time,” he teases Jensen when he stops by later to drop off Holly.

“Yeah well, she asked me, so I thought I'd give it a try,” Jensen mumbles, a bit too red in the face.

“Have fun,” Misha smiles as Holly storms past both of them and into the kitchen. “What's with her?”

“She's grumpy,” Jensen shrugs. “It's a teenager thing.”

“Bye, dad!” Holly shouts from the kitchen.

“Don't worry about it,” Misha nods, then pats Jensen shoulder. “I'm serious, by the way. Enjoy yourself.”

Jensen nods, but his smile seems shaky as he calls out, “You be a good girl, Holly! And go to bed when Misha says so!”

“Yeeeaaah,” comes the drawn-out, annoyed answer.

“Thanks, Mish,” Jensen adds quietly, then pulls Misha into a short hug before he leaves.

Misha closes the door behind him to see what Holly is up to. She's stuck with her head in the fridge, already looking for Misha's stack of chocolate bars. “I don't have any at home,” he notes amused.

Promptly, Holly turns around with a pout on her face.

“But I bought your favorite ice cream,” Misha adds with a grin. “Don't tell your dad, though.”

“Sure thing,” Holly smiles, then sits down at the breakfast bar. “What's for dinner?”

“I thought we could make some pizza, and not the prepared kind.”

“Like, making pizza from scratch? You can do that?” 

Misha raises an eyebrow. “Come here, I'll show you.”

Holly lights up instantly, although she doesn't let on what's been bothering her until later, when they're sitting on the couch, watching TV and sharing banana crunch ice cream between them.

“Do you know that woman dad is meeting today?” she asks after long minutes of companionable silence.

“No, I don't. It's their first date,” Misha shakes his head.

“Hm,” Holly mumbles.

“What is it?” Misha prompts.

Holly taps her spoon against her lips, humming to herself.

“Promise I won't tell your dad,” Misha raises his hand as if to take an oath.

“I know,” Holly says easily. “It's just that I don't know how to say it. I know dad has been alone since I was little, but I can't really imagine what it'd be like if there was... well, she'd be my stepmom, right? What if she and I don't get along?”

“I don't think your dad would stay with a woman who you don't get along with,” Misha shakes his head. “Definitely not.”

“But there's this girl Jessica in my grade and her stepmom's a real bitch--”

“Language,” Misha scolds her, although he keeps his tone very flat.

“Sorry,” Holly apologizes, her tone exactly like Misha's. The share a short grin. “They hate each other, you know, but her dad married that woman. And she won't even let Jessica go to her riding practice anymore, because it's _expensive.”_ She rolls her eyes to emphasize the last point.

“Holly, I won't ever let someone like that anywhere near your dad. Promise.” With that, Misha wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her tiny body, her legs curled up to her chest, against his side.

“Thanks, Uncle Misha,” she mumbles and hides her face in his chest. “But I don't get it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's not like with Jessica's family. Her mom died a year ago, and she has two younger sisters. Her dad can't deal with them, so he needs someone. But dad doesn't need anyone, right? He's raised me on his own since I was like, three. And he's got you.”

“Grown-ups get lonely sometimes, you know,” Misha sighs, plays with the long blonde strands falling out of Holly's pony tail, “And I might be his best friend, but there's things I can't be for him.”

“Like, sex and stuff?”

Right, twelve year olds and sex ed. “Yes, like sex and stuff. And love, mostly. That's something you really start to miss if you abstain from it for too long.”

“Is love so special?”

“Love is the most wonderful thing ever,” Misha chuckles. “You feel all weird and mushy inside and when that person smiles you want to hug the world. There's butterflies in your stomach and your heart hurts when you're not near each other.”

“Sounds gross,” Holly scrunches up her nose, and Misha starts to laugh out loud.

“You'll see, one day.”

And when Jensen returns later that day, looking very sour and disgruntled, Misha doesn't even need to ask how the date went. He feels a bit guilty, but a lot relieved.

For Holly's sake, he tells himself. Only for Holly's sake.

***  
  
A few dates follow – both on Jensen's and Misha's part, but somehow, neither one finds anybody interesting. At their age, the types of available men and women are pretty repetitive.

There's the women who worked for their career and are rightfully proud of that, but most don't get how Jensen could be happy with where he is now. Usually, Jensen gets to hear that they don't want to fight with a man over his masculinity, just because they earn a bigger salary than him. Not that Jensen would, but he's glad, secretly.

There's the women who stayed home with kids or want to stay home with kids they're trying to squeeze into their last remaining years before the big 40 hits – not that Jensen blames them. He just doesn't want another kid, not at this point, when Holly is finally old enough to cook her own dinner.

In Misha's case, there's the men who've been married until recently, just had their sexual awakening, who're newly out and proud and way too exhausting and demanding for his taste.

In the end, they'd rather stay single.

The big 40 looms in the distance for them, too.

At this point, Jensen looks forward to it.

***  
  
It's three months before Misha's 40  th birthday.

“So there's this new girl at the office,” Misha starts. “Her name's Julia.”

“Another Julia?” Jensen teases him with a grin.

Misha rolls his eyes. “Yes. And she's been hitting on me for weeks. And I can't honestly say I don't like it.”

Jensen hums, takes a sip from his beer. Good thing that Holly is at a sleepover at one of her friends' houses, so they can have a night to themselves for once. “So what's the problem?”

“She's barely 25.”

Jensen whistles appreciatively, “Mish, you player.”

Misha hides his blush behind his knees. “We just get along really well, and she has my kind of humor and I'm just skeptical because of our age difference, you know.”

“Don't knock it 'til you tried it,” Jensen shrugs. “It's a man's dream, right?”

A tentative smile spreads on Misha's lips. “You're probably right.”

Jensen chest aches.

***  
  
They celebrate Misha's 40  th birthday at home. Julia cooks dinner with Holly, since the two really hit it off immediately, and Jensen tries his hardest not to mention the pinky swear.

Misha isn't single anyway.

And Julia is good for him. She's mature for her age, and always has a witty reply on her tongue. A perfect match for Misha.

If Jensen is a bit disappointed, there's that.

***  
  
For Jensen's 40  th birthday, Holly bakes him a huge cake.

Misha is there, obviously, and Julia, too. Jensen's parents stop by in the afternoon, and his siblings call.

They go out for dinner at a steak house in the evening, and other than that, it's a day like any other.

***  
  
“No, god no,” Jensen mumbles to himself when he reads the letter.

Before he even knows what to do, his phone chirps with an incoming text.

Misha.  _I'm gonna flip my shit. Pls come over and help._

Jensen wordlessly grabs his stuff and keys, grateful for the distraction and because he needed to talk to Misha anyway, and leaves. On his way around the block, he sends a text to Holly to come home to Misha's place after school.

He hears it from a couple feet outside the house.

“Fuck you, Misha! Fuck you so much, you pretentious fucking--”

“I just told you--”

“No!” she screeches. “Leave me alone, you sick bastard!”

Jensen raises both eyebrows, then steps up towards Misha's front door. “Julia, what's up?”

“I'm not enough for this asshole, that's up!” she fumes, then shouts through the door, “I'm leaving, just so you know! Mail my stuff to my house, you hear me!”

And with that, she storms off.

Jensen knocks at the door. “It's me,” he says quietly.

“She gone?”

“Yes.”

Misha opens the door and lets him in. He looks exhausted, wrecked, and Jensen pulls him into a hug without asking. “Come on, let's get some coffee and sit down, and then you can tell me what happened.”

“Nothing much, really,” Misha sighs, then falls down on one of the chairs in the kitchen. “I just asked her if she was interested in polyamory or threesomes.”

“Really?”

“And she deduced that she wasn't enough for me. Maybe I hit a bad memory of sorts, I have no idea. But she's been shouting at me for the past half hour and I--” he lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, no, I guess she was less mature than she seemed.”

“Fifteen years are fifteen years after all. I'm sorry it didn't work.”

“Hm,” Misha nods, then accepts the cup of coffee Jensen hands him. “Thank you.”

“So, we're both alone, again.”

“Your date last night?” Misha prompts.

“A waste of time.”

They look at each other for a long moment, their thoughts clearly zeroing in on the same point. Over 40. Single.

“I don't think I can do a relationship right now,” Misha admits, not meeting Jensen's eyes.

“Yeah, no, of course, that's alright,” Jensen finds himself blabbering. “Oh, also, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

“I got a letter from my landlord this morning. He needs the apartment for owner requirements.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Misha blinks at him. “No, wait. I've got it.”

“Huh?”

“Move in with me.”

Jensen pauses with his cup lifted halfway to his lips. “What, really?”

“Yeah. Why not? I've got the space and you won't need to pay rent.”

“Of course I'll pay rent,” Jensen shakes his head. “You have a mortgage to pay after all.”

“Then help me pay the mortgage and we're good,” Misha offers.

“Okay.”

Jensen shrugs. “Okay.”

***  
  
Jensen doesn't expect it to take such a toll on him.

But it does.

He's spent a lot of time with Misha over the course of the years, but to see him early in the morning with tousled hair and his pajama pants riding low on his hips, every day, is something else. To see him nodding off on the sofa in the evening, his head against Jensen's shoulder, makes his heart do funny things. To see him with flour on his cheek and in his beard and an apron tied around his waist that says 'Kiss the Chef' makes Jensen lean in and kiss his cheek, every time.

He looks at Misha and the pit of his stomach tingles, his fingertips itch and his lips feel dry.

Jensen isn't stupid.

He's been in love before, he's had crushes before.

Maybe it's not the puppy love thing. It's not innocent, first love, where you just want to try kissing and holding hands in public. It's not the kind of rut that happens with the first person you sleep with, where it's all about what you do the next time you meet, using every opportunity to have sex. It's not even the kind of seasoned love, the rationally knowing you're good for each other, you work, you like each other.

It's a deep, mutual trust and understanding, something settled so deep within Jensen's bones that he hasn't questioned it for decades.

He loves Misha. Full stop.

***  
  
It's at the breakfast table, the day that Holly will move into the dorms of the college of her choice in Austin, Texas.

“Now you'll be all by yourself again,” Holly notes, matter of factly, while spooning Lucky Charms into her mouth and talking through her teeth. “You need a wife, both of you,” she adds, just to tease them.

Jensen snorts.

“I don't need a wife,” Misha smiles at her. “I already have a husband,” he turns his grin towards Jensen.

Jensen almost spits out his coffee.

“You're really kind-of married,” Holly laughs. “Dad, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Jensen coughs.

Later, when they're loading the dishwasher and Holly is up in her room, packing the last of her stuff, Misha nudges Jensen's elbow. “We could, you know.”

“What?”

“Get married. I mean, we're already living together like an old married couple. Just add the kissing and the sex.”

Jensen's heart beats too fast.

“Seriously? That's you proposing to me? And there I always thought you're a romantic at heart,” he tries to joke. If it comes out a little breathless, he can't help it.

Misha tips the dishwasher door closed, then grabs Jensen's sides to push him against the kitchen counter. “Remember that kiss in the back yard, on my birthday?”

How could he forget that. “Of course.”

“If I'm going to kiss you like that, right now, will you marry me?” Misha asks with an almost shy smile.

Jensen sucks in a deep breath, completely taken by surprise.

In their life, they already stood beside each other at the altar. At the wrong side of it, at the wrong side of each other.

“I promised to marry you, didn't I?” Jensen returns. “And to be honest, I can't see myself spending the rest of my life with anyone but you. So yes.”

“I'm glad,” Misha grins, radiating happiness. Then he leans in to kiss Jensen, slow and deliberate and Jensen wraps his arms around Misha's neck and pulls him closer, just closer, and how they haven't done this for months, years, decades, is beyond Jensen.

They've got at least as long in front of them, though.

And Jensen decides right then and there to make the most of it.

“Finally,” Holly interrupts them with a sigh from the door to the living room.

For a second, Jensen's heart stops, then he slowly retreats from Misha's enticing lips.

“Um,” he says, unable to look at his daughter.

“Dad, don't worry. This wasn't exactly a surprise.” Holly chuckles.

Jensen startles, “Why?”

“Because,” she answers with a grin. “It was kind of obvious. And I have no idea what took you so long. Ah, anyway, I've got the last of my stuff.”

“Will you be alright driving--”

“Yes, dad,” she tsks, rolling her eyes. “We've been over this. I'm good to drive.”

Misha squeezes his hand before Jensen retreats and walks to the door with Holly. With Misha's presence behind him, it's bearable. Barely, but bearable, to let his daughter leave the nest.

“Take care,” he says after they stuffed the last box into the trunk of Holly's tiny Toyota, a hand-me-down from Misha.

“You too,” she replies with a wide smile, then hugs him tight, burying her face in his chest. “And thank you for everything, dad.”

“No need to thank me for anything, baby,” Jensen coughs, swallows around the lump in his throat. “I'll always be here when you need me.”

“I know,” Holly's smile seems wobbly, too.

“Now, off you go. Don't make me cry.”

Holly hugs Misha, too, almost as long as Jensen, and they exchange a few quiet words that Jensen can't make out and refuses to eavesdrop on.

Then she's gone.

And Jensen and Misha have a house to themselves.

“You know, she just told me to take good care of you or she'll kick me in the nuts,” Misha grins. “Why do I feel so weirdly proud of her?”

“'Cause she just told off her second dad?” Jensen suggests with a giggle.

Misha laughs. Pearly, light, absolutely wonderful.

Jensen falls a little more in love with him at that.

With his heart thundering in his chest, he pulls Misha against himself and kisses him, like Misha is a drug he can't get enough of. He certainly feels high.

“I could use some distraction right now,” Jensen mumbles against Misha's lips. “Just sayin'.”

“I think we can do a thing or two about that,” Misha gasps, then, because Jensen's hands are at his belt, opening it.

Blindly, Misha stumbles backwards and takes Jensen with him, towards his bedroom.

“I can't believe we're doing this,” Jensen notes, amused.

“I can't believe we haven't been doing this,” Misha answers.

They both pull apart to watch the other, to trace facial features with eyes and fingers and lips, until it's all too much. Jensen hasn't felt this desperate since he was sixteen and got hard at the lightest breeze.

He practically rips off Misha's clothes, interrupted only by Misha's hands on his body, tugging, pulling at clothing until they're both naked, standing in front of each other.

“We could've done this for _so long,”_ Jensen groans with regret and frustration, then steps towards Misha to push him onto the bed, falling down into the sheets with him.

Misha laughs against his lips, breathless, happy, “Yeah, we could've,” he agrees, pushing Jensen flat on his back and straddling his hips. “We could've promised to marry each other when we met in kindergarten. Our mothers would've gotten an instant heart attack.”

“Please don't talk about our mothers as long as we're both naked and in bed,” Jensen wheezes out in a rush, feels his blood race through his veins at Misha's hands traveling all over his body.

“Noted. Speaking of, how often have we been naked with each other? We could've noticed after baseball practice. Or in Mike's parents' pool, when they weren't home and we didn't have bathing shorts with us.”

“Mish, we were nine years old,” Jensen laughs, kisses the smile on Misha's face, wallows in the sigh as he closes his hand around Misha's hard cock.

“And then there's that kiss in the tree house, that probably gave away something,” Misha snickers, pumping Jensen until he's gasping for air.

“Maybe,” is all Jensen manages under the intense focus of Misha's eyes and his skilled hands.

“Or when you had your first girlfriend and I was so, so, so very jealous,” Misha admits.

“Really? So that's why you never let me live down the Suzy Meinfeldt experience.”

“Yeah. But if we'd slept with each other back then, without knowing what to do, you'd probably never would've tried gay sex ever again and believe me when I say, back then it really wasn't good. Between all the coming too early and the constant demand for blowjobs, you know.”

Jensen buries his hand in Misha's hair and pulls him against his lips, to shut him up and to stop making him blush.

Misha manages to pull away nonetheless. “Or when we danced with each other at your wedding. God, I wanted to pull that tux off of you with my  _teeth.”_ To demonstrate his point, Misha bites up the side of Jensen's jaw, until he reaches the earlobe and nips at that, too.

Jensen shivers.

“And the rest is just... how could we have been so blind and stupid? Ah, well. No time like the present.”

“Mish.”

“Hm.”

“Mish, I really love you, but shut your face and get to the point where you're fucking me,” Jensen begs, desperate.

“Okay,” Misha laughs, then steals a quick kiss. “And I love you, too.”

“I know,” Jensen moans when Misha pulls back to get the lube from his bedside drawer.

“You don't, actually,” Misha smirks, that dangerous, devious smile that makes Jensen weak in the knees. “But I'll show you.”

Misha makes good on his word, stretches him open on one, then two fingers, before he grabs a condom to roll it over his cock.

The moment Misha buries himself in Jensen's body is a revelation in and of itself.

Jensen just lies there, takes it, and breathes through the slight pain and through the thick fog of arousal. “Fuck,” he curses with emphasis.

“You good?”

“No. _Move.”_

“So bossy.” Misha punctuates the words with a sharp thrust of his hips.

Jensen doesn't remember much from the following minutes, just that he was writhing from pleasure, desperate to come, and after Misha fucked him slowly and gently until Jensen was sure he'd lose his mind, all it took was one well-timed stroke along his dick and Jensen was  _gone._

Gone, blown to smithereens, his mind empty, his heart full of love.

“God,” he breathes out after he comes down from his orgasm.

“'Misha' is fine.”

Jensen rolls his eyes at Misha. Then they grin at each other, wide and toothy and  _finally._

_Finally, indeed._

**THE END**

[](http://imgur.com/wExT5CF)

**Author's Note:**

> A big Thank You goes out to my trusty, reliable beta [Lauren](https://twitter.com/jolauriang), for her hard work and for always supporting me throughout the years. You're always a joy to work with, so I'm happy to have been able to work with you for so long!
> 
> Another Thank You goes to [stephmendes](http://stephmendes.tumblr.com/post/145214252695/my-first-artwork-for-cockles-big-bang-2016-art), who created this amazing, detailed banner and artwork that fits the story so perfectly. Thank you so much for this, and thank you for choosing my story!


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